Chaos and mayhem seemed to be ensuing in Ussermis, as Edrimer listened closely to the gunshots from the window of his room in his uncle's apartment. What the fuck is going on? Who's doing this? Dread? Midas? Sanguinary? Could it be the Justicars that are fighting someone over there? Fuck me… this city will never know rest at this rate.
"Edrimer?" his uncle, Jeremy, appeared in the room.
"Do you hear that, Uncle?"
"I do. The whole neighborhood must be hearing it."
"If the people of this city ever complain about the lack of any action…" a wry smile appeared on Edrimer's face.
"I doubt that will ever happen," Jeremy chuckled. It's sad as much as it is funny… bullets are flying only a few blocks away and we're just laughing at the situation, shrugging it off as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Fuck… what have we come to?
Edrimer ran his hands through his short, blonde hair, looking disappointed. He looked down at his arm, seeing his Seditone tattoo. Spirals and thick curly lines of black ink blended neatly into themselves all along his arm. This symbol stood as a sigil of hope and strength during the Tearful Rebellion, yet here we are, 14 years later, still hearing gunshots from our windows. Nothing has changed. If anything, it’s gotten worse.
"Do you think there's any point in fighting back, Uncle? Do you think people can actually change this kind of shit?"
"I think you can be a sheep all your life if that's what you want, and hope for a better future, but a wolf says 'fuck it' and shapes his own future." That old man… he's my favorite OldGen.
"What happens if we lose? I mean, in the Tearful Rebellion—"
"The Tearful Rebellion shouldn’t be an example of failure. Sure, we didn’t get what we wanted in the end, but it's more important to remember it for the bravery and prowess of those who stood and fought, those who went out and risked their lives for a better today and an even better tomorrow. A wolf may die fighting for his future, but at least he won't have to live through a grim one." He's right.
"Uncle, would you mind letting me make a call?"
"Sure." Jeremy closed the door behind him, leaving Edrimer alone in his room.
As soon as he heard his uncle walking away from the door, he opened one of the drawers in his closet. In it were several things that he had received from Serian on the day that he was recruited: a set of white Elastics, a pistol, two loaded magazines, and a spare SmartWrist. It was a cheap model, made of low-quality materials, that was to be used only to contact Serian. It already had Serian's number saved in it. Edrimer took the SmartWrist and called Serian. A few dial tones later, his voice was heard on the other end.
"Hello?"
"Serian, it's Edrimer."
"What is it?" Serian didn’t sound pleased to be disturbed.
"Are you aware of what's going down in Ussermis?"
"I am."
"Then I guess we're part of that gunfight."
"Yes."
"Who are we fighting?"
"What do you care? You're not part of this particular fight."
"I'm a Justicar, aren’t I?"
"You're also a tenderfoot. We don’t like to trust tenderfoots with every piece of information."
"Look, I get it, you guys are careful, your survival depends on secrecy and you're worried tenderfoots could be spies for the mob gangs or something, but you tasked me with helping you bring down the Tri-Surgeon, so—"
"The Tri-Surgeon is an independent serial killer, who's not affiliated with any of the mob gangs." Oh, now I see. That way, even if I'm a spy, there won't be anyone who I can leak any information on the case to.
"And here I thought you liked me, Serian."
"Well, don't cry over it. You're not the only one."
"Look, this gunfight… it's just near my home. I can get there and help. I want to prove—"
"You're not supposed to—"
"But I can—"
"I don’t want you there!" Serian berated him. "Look, I'm tired of this conversation. Tomorrow a car will pick you up and take you to our temporary base of operations as we scheduled. Stay put until then." He hung up. Man, what a cranky old fellow.
Edrimer lingered a while longer, feasting his ears on the ongoing gunshots taking place just a few blocks away. They don’t trust me, and I can understand that. This kind of approach might just be the very thing that has preserved the Justicars for 5 years. Then again, there's no telling how much time and effort I'll have to put in before I can make any fucking difference around here. Fuck it. I have to show them that I can help. I have to show them that I am a true motherfucking White Knight.
Edrimer grabbed the Elastics and held them in his hands. The unique rubber-leather fabric was white as snow. Its bright shade almost gleamed under the dark night sky. He took the pistol with him and left his room. On his way out, he grabbed his coat, hiding the pistol under it. His mind was made up and his face looked more determined than ever.
"Where are you going, Edrimer?" his uncle asked him.
"To do something good, I guess," Edrimer threw at him upon leaving.
The warehouse was a short walk away from Jeremy's apartment. As he drew closer and closer to the source of shooting, he came to realize that it was coming from an old warehouse on Brine Street. Once he could see it, he hid behind a wall of a nearby building, hoping not to be seen, as he wore the white Elastics. With his face covered, and his hands and feet protected from any leaving of evidence, he drew his pistol and walked out from behind the wall. Coming from the front might be too risky. I should go through the back door, he thought as he paced towards the warehouse. His heart was beating fast. I have to do this. I have to take action in order to shape my future.
As he walked past the front door, going around the structure to reach the back door, he saw a figure from afar, just as it was crossing the corner to the back part of the structure. Even though he didn’t have more than two seconds to see him, he clearly saw the long, blonde hair that the man had, along with the golden gloves and shoes that he wore.
Is… Is that…? The golden Elastics… the hair… he paced much faster now. He hoped that he was wrong, but also hoped that he was right. If this was truly his brother, he might finally get some long-awaited answers.
He crossed the corner and saw the man standing in front of the back door. Now he could confirm his identity. Edrimer paced quietly toward him from behind, with his gun aimed. When he finally came close enough to let his gun touch his head, he uttered words that he had longed to say.
"Hello, brother." Arkaneh raised his hands in the air, with a pistol held in his right hand. "Drop the gun," Edrimer commanded him. Arkaneh wasted no breath so far in talking to his brother, and simply did as he was told. Edrimer kicked the gun far from the two. "Turn around." Once again, Arkaneh did as he was told, and both of the brothers seemed to be in awe as they looked each other in the eye. Edrimer was stunned to finally see his brother's face after 2 years, and Arkaneh was shocked to see the white mask that stared back at him.
"So… you're a Justicar now," Arkaneh said in his routine cold, monotonic voice.
"It's a funny story." Edrimer removed the mask from his face so that maybe his brother would find it easier to talk to his sibling, rather than a Justicar.
"I'm sure it is."
"Where the fuck were you, Arkaneh? You disappeared for 2 fucking years and you never even reached out to us!"
"Don’t take it personally. I was busy." Arkaneh didn’t even seem bothered.
"You fucking piece of shit. How the fuck did you even end up with Reus Mallistrom?"
"It's a long story."
"Look… I know how broken you were after Elina, but this isn’t what she would have wanted."
"And how would you know that? This was my choice, Edrimer, you don’t get a say in it."
"You're still my brother, for fuck's sake!"
"Maybe in the past… right now we're enemies. White and gold. So tell me… are you going to shoot me, or do you just enjoy pointing that gun at me?" We're enemies… that's right… I'm supposed to kill him, but… I don’t think I can do it… I mean, this is Arkaneh… this is my brother, who I grew up with… "Well, Edrimer?"
An eerie silence passed while Edrimer stood there with a sturdy hand and a cluttered mind. He fought with the idea of executing his long lost brother, yet at the same time, he knew that letting him go would be wrong. "Just tell me… how could you do this? How could you not care about Uncle Jeremy and me like that?" Edrimer asked.
"When I left I didn’t care about anyone, including myself. It wasn’t out of selfishness… it was purely out of tiredness."
"Elina… what happened to her was… so horrible…"
"I'm going to make it right. Now put the gun down, please."
Slowly, Edrimer started lowering his weapon. "Make it right? What do mean—?" before he could finish his question, Arkaneh used Edrimer's momentary inattention to grab the gun from his hand and kick him down to the ground.
Arkaneh pointed the gun at his brother, standing over him. "I have to admit, I knew you wouldn’t be able to shoot me, but for a second there you almost made me question my own judgment," Arkaneh said with a crooked smile, his cold voice now matched his nature. I can't believe it… Arkaneh… what have you become?
"You goddamn motherfucker," Edrimer cursed him.
"Such foul language is for lesser people, Edrimer, you should know that."
"So what now? Are you going to shoot me? Your own brother?"
"Don’t try sentimentality with me. It won't get you anywhere," Arkaneh snarled. "But I'll tell you what." He lowered the gun and ejected the magazine, throwing it away. He then drew back the barrel of the gun, extracting the loaded bullet, and threw the gun in the other direction. What is he doing? "I want to offer you a deal. You probably know how much trouble the Justicars can be, and we happen to be in a time where we could really use an inside man in there."
"You want me to be your inside man?"
"I'll make sure you'll be rewarded in time, of course. I won't put you in any danger, and you'll be able to provide for Uncle Jeremy that way."
"Why the fuck would I help Men of Midas? Why the fuck would I help YOU?"
"Grow up, Edrimer. The Justicars haven’t changed anything in 5 years. What makes you think you're going to be the one to get that poor excuse for an organization to bring any real justice to Alataria? At least if you help me, I can make sure it will be worth your while. I know you and Uncle Jeremy need the money."
"I don’t fucking believe this. I don’t know what happened to you over this last 2 years, but you are far from being the man I knew. I will NEVER help Men of Midas! You fuckers killed Zachary, that helpless old man who ran the store I worked in! He had nothing to do with the guys who tried to rob us and you killed him! Besides, have you forgotten that these kinds of criminals were the ones who killed Elina?"
Arkaneh remained silent for a while before responding, as if he had let the anger that sprouted from Edrimer's reply to dissipate from the air. "You disappoint me, Edrimer," he finally said. "Perhaps it was a mistake to throw away that gun. Nevertheless, you alone stand as no threat to me, so I have no reason to dispose of you."
"Arkaneh!" a voice from inside the warehouse was heard. "Where the fuck are you? The battle is over! We won!" Edrimer didn’t recognize the voice, yet it sounded grumpy and gnarly.
"That's Connor Griffiths," Arkaneh said. "Your friends in there are all dead. You should go before they come out here and find you." He turned around, ready to open the back door. "Oh, and Edrimer," he stopped to say. "The next time we meet, I won't be so merciful. I've spared you twice so far. Once as a brother, and once as a Justicar. That's all the generosity you're going to get from me." Upon saying those words, Arkaneh entered the warehouse.
Edrimer lingered a while longer, laying there on the floor, still trying to wrap his mind around the man who had once been his brother. Among the chaos and turmoil that ensued in his mind, the biggest question of all stood: was Arkaneh really willing to kill him?
